A Random Image

Jett Superior laid this on you on || November 13, 2000 || 12:00 pm

My brain is rat-tat-tatting today….trains of thought are speeding by too quickly to jump on one and see where it takes me…


I make no bones about my contempt of the world at large, but sometimes I wonder about my place in it. I feel like I am in a rut (“Lump sat alone in a boggy marsh / Totally motionless except for her heart”) and halfheartedly flirting with the idea of getting out of it….raising my shoulders, straightening my back and then….well, nothing. Just nothing. Slumping back to the original position.

My life is plastic pop-beads. Remember those? Those little plastic, obscenely-colored pop beads that snapped together in any number of patterns that you could imagine for four colors. After awhile they become the discarded things scattered all over the house, under beds, in dark corners of the closet, behind the dresser. One by one they disappear, save for the few that cling together stubbornly. Ultimately those too are useless. What’s the use for five little pop-beads? You can’t even hook them together. They aren’t enough. They cannot even hook to themselves. After mom has chased away the rest in fits of springtime tearing out and re-organizing, those five are chucked out as well. They are not a set. Get rid of ‘em.

Ditto my ideas.

Shit, even if the set had remained intact, those pop-beads are BORING; you move past them because the number of patterns and uses are distinctly finite.

I marvel at my current lack of profundity. Ahhhh, fuck; even if I wasn’t deep before, at least I perceived myself as such. I was told as a small child that I was BETTER, I was MORE, I was SPECIAL STOCK. What in the fuck? Why would you do that to a kid?

What kind of impression am I making? Will other people’s mental snapshots of me show me beaming and unfettered? Will they reflect me in a somber light? Will my lips be pursed, my face puckered and closed-off?

Nobody worked it out »

Don´t be shy. Lay it on me.

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